On October 25, 1962 the cold war between the United states of America and the Soviet Union came to a deadly climax. The moment the US navy sunk a Soviet ship carrying weapons of mass destruction through the blockade surrounding Cuba, the sky across the world became littered with trail smoke of fired nuclear missiles. Across the globe emergency sirens rang and many did as they were taught and administered the "duck and cover" protocol, while many more believed it was just another drill seeing as they were frequent during the cold war. Either way the result was the same. Some were in their beds when it happened, pulling the covers over their heads like frightened children, hoping the searing pain was merely a nightmare. When hellfire stopped raining down from the sky a mere several hours later, those who survived found little comfort in the fact that they lived for the world around them had died.
In the years that followed the world was plagued with much more death and disease with those who didn't die from nuclear fallout, falling victim to; starvation, dehydration, infections, diseases and lead poisoning on account of the first roaming gangs who were quick to make their power known in a lawless land. In time, however, the radiation began to dissipate, save for some pockets lingering here and there, and towns began to emerge. Though these dilapidated settlements were either extremely paranoid about anyone who came in, or just plainly kept their gates shut as much as possible.

2156
Washington DC, aka: The capital wasteland

The former capital of the United States was probably one of the most badly hit cities in the world with little of its once proud glory remaining but the crumbling ruins of its center and the skeletons of its outer buildings, which were picked completely clean by roaming scavengers and prospectors. Other than that the areas around the "city" can easily be mistaken for the Sahara desert were it not for the remnants of pre-war buildings and the charred remains of what were once green trees.
The capital wasteland is also widely regarded as the most lawless places in the former nation, quite a feat indeed when living in a world as anarchic as it is. Gangs of raiders and thugs roam and plunder whatever they can find and often come into violent struggles with each other. The few mercenary groups who managed to become organized are often employed by those talented or lucky enough to afford them and they aren't exactly working to establish order. Some villages are managing to survive in these harsh conditions, but they are few and far between, often preferring to remain hidden in the old subway tunnels or fortifying themselves to almost ridiculous extremes. Needless to say, neither is very eager to welcome visitors unless you have something they want.
Those looking to trade should remember to leave gold, jewelry and paper currency behind seeing as no one has use for such items anymore; food and water, clean or otherwise, bullets, guns and skills have become the most wanted items, though as long as it is of value to someone you can get something in return for it. In some places, that even includes living breathing humans. Labor is tough work after all and someone has to do it, whether they want to or not.
It's a harsh and unforgiving world and you're in it.
Good luck.

Medical training
Over the past several years Ryan has received training in the field of medicine and can apply it to the point of being seen as a doctor. While his skills focus most on surgical procedures and the treatment of wounds mostly received in combat, he does have quite a bit of knowledge in terms of diseases and the likes.

Marksmanship
One doesn't survive long in the wastes without at least some combat skills, in Ryan's case he found it in the ability to accurately fire a rifle. Ironic seeing as the wounds he treats most are gunshot wounds. His training came from his previous engagement with a mercenary group who had the rule that you only got two bullets to train your marksmanship per day, each bullet represented a meal; hit both on target, eat two meals per day with you losing a meal each time you miss.

Scavenging
Medical tools and ammo isn't the most common in the wasteland and one must keep a keen eye out for any and all useful objects. Even if it isn't what you're looking for, you might be able to trade it for something you are searching for. Scavenging is also a skill that must be trained seeing as the ruins you're searching have been picked over for almost two hundred years now.

Background:
Born in a small village surviving in one of the subway tunnels, Ryan was sold into slavery at a young age since his mother needed to satiate her addiction to morphine and his father needed bullets. For several year, Ryan lost count, he was switched back and forth between jobs from doing some of the lifting to cleaning up bodies as well as... other things. Basically anything his owners wanted him to do. Things like that would mess up a normal kid, maybe it did mess him up as well. Hard to say.
After some time a band of mercenaries clashed with the slavers, the reason why is unknown to Ryan, nor is the reason why they took him along. Maybe they saw something in him, maybe they knew he could be useful someday, or maybe they realized he was covered in blood and none of it was his. Could be some of the slavers didn't die from mercenary bullets.
Whatever the case, the mercenaries took him along and the resident medic of the gang thought it wise to teach the young Ryan his profession, something he wasn't eager to do for any other member of the mercenary band. Kept saying that they were too old and that old dogs couldn't learn new tricks. The band of military contractors turned out to be something for Ryan he didn't really expect; a family. They looked out for one another, stuck together, had laughs and drinks... it wasn't really something he was used to, so it took some time to adjust, but they gave him all the time he needed. Eventually it was among them that he grew up from a boy to a man.
But nothing lasts forever and one day they took a job that seemed easy enough, but payed quite handsomely. They merely had to clear out a raider stronghold, a routine operation by all accounts. They had done it time and time again, so why would this time had been any different? Their arrogance proved their downfall, they got sloppy, careless and walked right into an ambush. Most of the men were mowed down by a hail of bullets, those who survived were either wounded or dying and those that couldn't keep their wails of agony under control were quickly killed as well. Ryan was one of the wounded with several bullets in his torso, but lucky for him none in any vital areas. He was lucky, maintained consciousness and able to remain quiet and appear dead. The raiders stripped him of everything of worth save for the clothes on his back and left him there to rot among his fallen brethren. When the time came Ryan wandered away from the bodies and as luck would have it, into an old doctor's practice with enough tools left to fix his sorry state.
It took some time for him to recover, but he did eventually. Once ready to move, he headed back into the wastes and scavenged enough supplies to make due and spent his time ever since then as a wandering doctor.

picture or vivid description:

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Appearance LogisticsHeight: 173m (5'8")
Weight: 55kg (121lbs)
Hair: Dirty Blonde
Eyes: Azure
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Appearance: Joe is quite tall with a figure that suggests she constantly keeps herself in shape for the greater good. Her honey-hay locks are usually unkept and loose, cascading in a way that resembles the enclave of a poor bird. Joe's face is lean, yet strong and she's practically mastered the are-you-shitting-me face. At times her expression seems puzzled and this is an indication she's planing thoroughly and you should watch out.

Strengths(+) Willful; having or showing a stubborn and determined intention to do as one wants, regardless of the consequences or effects. Jo is known for her smart mouth and thick skull. She isn't afraid to (physically and metaphorically) stand up to someone and argue until her face turns blue. It's hard for her to accept she is wrong in the most dire times.(+) Humorous; causing lighthearted laughter and amusement. Jo loves to try and lighten a dark mood by simply throwing out bad jokes or using puns to make her comrades smile. In her mind anything can be fixed with a quick laugh, even if she is lying in a ditch half dead.(+) Gut Instincts; the fact or quality of possessing innate behavior patterns. Jo has always had an acute sense when it comes to bad decisions, bad situations, or bad people. Usually, she will listen to her gut no matter what. The few times she hash't have been a complete wake up call for her.(+) Empathetic; the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. Jo may seem like a tough cookie on the outside, but on the inside, like every human-being, she has feelings and problems. These two factors help her connect to others with similar emotions or issues. She is great at giving advice, but won't open her mouth to distribute some unless asked to. She is aware that some people just need to vent and that is it.(+) Strong Silent-Type; used to describe a person who is usually quiet and quite tough. Jo has been through some hard times so she keeps to herself most of the time. Despite everything, she is a very inside type of person, but nonetheless very strong emotionally and mentally. This is probably the reason she connects to people so well and harbors a deep set of instincts to the environment and it's people.

Weaknesses(-) Easily Embarrassed; intense discomfort with oneself, experienced upon having a socially unacceptable act or condition witnessed by or revealed to others. Jo is known to be picked out from the group because of her silence and this sort of "calling-out-embarassment" makes her red in the face and watery in the eyes. She usually lashes out with anger to protect her pride.(-) Open Book; a person or thing that is easily understood or interpreted. When Jo is upset someone can usually tell exactly what is wrong. She feels so strongly that her emotions shine through like the sun. This usually leads to embarrassment and then lashing out.(-) Poor Leader; a person in a leadership role that lacks the necessary skill, ability, and overall qualties to effectively lead. Unfortunately, none of the traits Jo portrays add up to an effective leader. She is completely irresponsible when looking after others (even if they are a good friend) and she is known to just rush into battle without a proper plan.(-) Deceitful; guilty of or involving lies; deceiving or misleading others. Jo has been screwed over more times than she can count on her hands and feet. She has learned that anything and everything will be used against you in this world and she will not take such treatment anymore. Jo keeps her life to herself as well as any secrets of the world she hinders. Most people can see she is lying though.(-) Wrath; an excessive emotion based off of anger that involves a strong, violent, uncomfortable and emotional response to a perceived provocation. When provoked Jo will address the matter in front of whomever she pleases and when provoked continuously she is not afraid to put her foot down, hard, and in your face. Little habits that people do can tickle beneath her skin and this can push her off the deep end as well. This emotion is rarely shown though.

Skills1. Eidetic Memory: an ability to recall images, sounds or objects in memory with high precision for a few minutes without using mnemonics. This is how Jo is easily able to maneuver through cities, towns, or states. Once she has visited a place she is able to visit that exact spot as many times as she wishes.
2. Jo loves to dance. She does it whenever she needs a bit of a pick-me-up.
3. She is magnificent in being stealthy.
4. Jo really loves to draw and paint. She tries to find as many items that allow her to do this as possible.
5. The young woman has a general understanding of medicine and wounds.
6. She is a great combatant, but there are other skills she harbors that can get her out of a bad situation.

BackgroundJo was born to a pair of loving parents, until their group was plagued by war and the couple had to harden their shells and take their daughter as far from the battle as possible. The trio travelled all across the country for many years; keeping to themselves, joining others, killing others, and seeing the world as it really was, not how it was behind the safety of their original group. When Jo was seven her mother passed away in her sleep. Years later, when she was old enough to understand, her father would admit that mama Betty Mona Anderson was sick with cancer for many years. The realization that anyone could die at any moment hit Jo's father hard and from that moment on he vowed to make his daughter into the warrior he knew she could be.

From eight years old and up, Jo was like the Karate Kid [though only I know what that is], training everyday until she knew how to disarm a man and then kill him. Her father, Frederick Cain Anderson, pushed his daughter harder than was necessary, but he saw it as the only way she would survive. Looking back now, Jo is grateful for what her father taught her. Most women now have not been shown the ropes by such a high figure head and the rest have not been shown the ropes at all. It's miraculous even when Jo meets another female with the same ideology as herself.
When Jo was twenty she had to lay her father to rest. Jo recalled the many times her father would complain about feeling "numb", but she would never figure out exactly what was wrong with him. She inferred, but without a proper medical diagnosis she simply had to bury him and move on. Congenital insensitivity to pain (CIP), also known as congenital analgesia, is one or more rare conditions in which a person cannot feel (and has never felt) physical pain, which was the disease Frederick began to walk with through life. He was withering away under the sun, it was only a matter of time. After the funeral Jo began to live a lot and trust a little. Currently, she does not reside in a group and is pretty apprehensive in making friends with any.

Physical appearance:
reasonably long dark hair she keeps in a bun most of the time to avoid issues like having it grabbed by someone. Reasonably tall (5’6”/around 168 cm). Has a nasty scar, probably from a burn of some sorts, on her left cheek that goes down onto her jaw and a bit of her neck.

Skills:postapo cooking
seriously, even if it does not look edible, she will make it so. Having vast knowledge of plants (or whatever is left from those and/or mutated in the meantime), she will successfully prepare a meal/find something to put in her belly most of the time.

sewing
give her a small, sharp bone and some string and she will sew everything up, almost in magical fashion. May sew people as well, although reluctantly.

great vision!
comes in handy when sewing.. And operating a sniper rifle.

sniper rifle "mastery"
although she is far from being a warrior of any kind, she can hold her ground (preferably from far away); steady grip and good vision help with this immensely

Other:bookworm
she will collect any book/pamphlet/flashcard/younameit she sees and will fight for it not being burned right away

born in a small settlement called Oakmill, Alex grew up with two older brothers and their mother, never getting to know her father who left the family a few months before she was born. Her mother being a farmer, Alex quickly learned how to care for and utilize all types of plants. She managed to live peacefully most of her life – when she was twenty one, though, things changed. It was hard to say whether whoever attacked them were a random group of mercenaries or whether the whole incident was a planned assault, but no matter the truth behind it, the entire situation forced Alex and her family to leave everything at once. It was then that the younger of the two brothers died.

Moving on, Alex and her sibling, Tom, traveled west, practically dragging their mother with them by force. The woman never found peace after the death of one of her children and became increasingly passive. Even though Alex begged her brother to find a new place to live instead of constantly travelling, Tom kept refusing, paranoid on account of the previous attack. It was also during that time that he started teaching Alex how to use weapons - it quickly became clear that his younger sister favoured the sniper rifle which allowed her to keep others at bay.

In a matter of a few months they were forced to bury their mother who never shook off the grief.

The siblings moved on, but from this point, Alex hasn't spend a day not blaming her brother for their loss. Growing tired with the nomadic way of life as well as her brother's paranoia, she ran away, hoping she'd be able to find a new settlement to live in. Drifting from one group to another, Alex ended up picking up random skills from random people and mastering the ones she learned as a child.

Height: 5'11''
Weight: 145 lbs
Hair: Jet Black
Eyes: Pale Blue
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Appearance: Jeff is a grave character: his face is typically stoic though expressive when he decides to use it. Creases line his face; living in the waste ages a man so inelegantly. His body is skinny, frail even, which is only exaggerated by the baggy clothing he's looted from bodies. His face, although aged, is still sharp, his glance piercing, cold, his skin pale as snow. His hollow cheeks accentuate his sharp jaw line, and, if there wasn't something disconcerting about his gaze, he would be considered quite handsome.

Skills:
1. Knowledge: Having been around for quite some time, Jeff has acquired much knowledge of the post-apocalyptic world and what works. He's a voracious reader . . . when he can scavenge something to read, that is.

2. Tinkerer: Jeff gained renown in his home town for his resourcefulness, being able to build all kinds of devices from seemingly incompatible scrap. His specialty is with traps, but Jeff has built a wide array of machines.

3. Deception: Jeff is very good at gaining people's trust for the sake of manipulation.

4. Combat: Jeff is a resourceful, dirty fighter and does whatever it takes to take down his target. He may not be stellar at it, but he's smart about it, and has come out of some sticky situations because of it.

5. Basic Medical Knowledge: Through reading and his "explorations", Jeff knows a bit about how the human body works, though he has never put it into practice for medical science.

In the harsh world of the Wastes, normal, respectable people are oft driven to insanity. Jeff was just born that way.

He was born and grew up in New Newfoundland, a town on the Eastern Seaboard that against all odds maintained a shred of humanity during the end of days. Behind its high walls flourished, or rather persisted, a large society dictated by rules and equality. They commanded a respectable military, able to fend off the bands of raiders that constantly nipped at their heels and may have been one of humanity's greatest shots at doing it all over.

As a child, Jeff was unassuming, gentle, with a quiet charm about him. He had immense talent with machinery, a feature that quickly brought the boy fame in his small town. By looking at various scrap parts, Jeff was able to mentally assemble them into a new form, give life to dead metal. At the age of 10, Jeff constructed his first toy quadrotor. By 13, he created a unique land-roving vehicle fitted with taser harpoons and a mini-turret. His resourcefulness attracted the eyes of the town's guard who grew increasingly desperate in their defense. Raiders, desiring what lay behind the town's concrete walls conspired and consolidated forces, now attacking in a united front. They consulted Jeff who, through brilliant and often brutal traps, held off and even dissuaded outsiders from assaulting. Over the next five years, Jeff rose from local wunderkind to town hero. Over the next five months, he would destroy his home town.

Jeff had a fascination with the human form. How it held itself together, how parts worked in unison and communicated. He believed that nature scavenged together molecules to form humans, much like he created his machines, and he grew jealous. He wanted to be able to create his own kind of human, or at the very least model his creations after what he felt to be a fantastically elegant design. Unlike the machines he built, though, the parts were not readily available. So he had to take matters into his own hands.

He tried the graveyards first and made some progress. He saw how the spinal cord twisted through its protective yet flexible sheath. He picked through rotting brains to look at neurons under a scope. He cracked open bones to peer inside, see how this machine could self-replenish. But such research could only take him so far. His specimens were imperfect, embalmed or decaying. He could discover the statics of the human body, but he needed to see it in motion to really grasp it. He needed live subjects . . . or at least ones that would live long enough.

. . .

Jeff, though brilliant, had a tendency to be sloppy in his youth, believing that he could put the cogs and gears scattered about his hut to use at a moments notice. When the authorities approached his hut, responding to complaints about the rancid smell, at first he was able to turn them away with a shy smile and a blush, telling them that the matter was embarrassing. When they returned with a warrant, searching for 27 people that had gone missing in the town over the past few months, he wasn't able to turn them away. And so he was incarcerated without resistance. The guards that searched his hut discovered that the 27 bodies had been put to use in various works of ingenuity and art. They were hospitalized soon thereafter.

Jeff didn't enjoy it in prison. He couldn't tinker, be it with metal or flesh. It was with a faint smile on his face, then, he crawled out of the rubble of his cell months later to discover that the town lay in ruins, overrun by raiders. The smile grew broader as he discovered a few injured survivors, and broader still when he discovered his hut still had all the tools, the raiders turned away by the brilliance of his creations within. And so he resumed tinkering.

But the town soon ran out of usable parts, and Jeff realized that should he strive towards his greatest contraption yet, he would need to seek out more people. So he trudged out of the rubble of New Newfoundland, continuing on his noble quest towards truth.

⊱ A P P E A R A N C E ⊰"Looks are always deceiving"
Jack has always taken after her father in all things but her frame, her face and to her daddy's dismay, her gender. Her color comes from the Blake side of the family, the dark hair she shares with her father cascades half way down her back, thick, silky, luscious and always tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes are her fathers, calculating stormy grey, tinged with silver blue and surrounded by thick black lashes to make them stand out, at times they truly seem to be a glimpse into her crowded soul, and betray both wicked glints as well as innocent glances. Her face is pretty enough to look on, if not for the silvery old scar on her right side that begins at her mid forehead, cutting through her arched black eyebrow and running vertically to the base of her high cheekbone. Unlike some, instead of hiding it as well as she can behind her hair she presents it, Jack finds it makes her look more fierce, something that is to be desired with her pleasant heart-shaped face. She can often be found with a mask across the lower half of her visage to hide the plump curved lips that can often --if not always-- be found set in a smirk, no matter how serious the situation. Her body type is athletic, the girl has a narrow waist and slender legs, along with pale delicate skin, smooth to the touch and stark against her dark hair. She often wears combat boots, as well as black clothing, or old military attire found in ravaged surplus stores.

⊱ S K I L L S ⊰"What can I say? I'm a talented lass"​

⊱ Mapping || "I know my way around, sweet heart"

The girl was taught by her mother how to read the basics, and her father used that knowledge to show her how to keep up with where their group has traveled and what little scavenger dwelling hovels they have hit. Aside from that, her dad shrugs off reading, having always been more physical in most things. He has always been the type to shoot the wise man before bothering to listen, however Jack she knew there was value in knowledge. Currently she is unable to read very well, teaching herself the basics with the little knowledge she already has.​

⊱ Weapons & Combat Abilities || "Yay, broken noses and guns."

Jacqueline has been able to shoot and hit her target since she was ten years old, it started with air rifles, since they were trivial and wasting their ammunition was of little consequence. She gradually became more adept and grew into larger more practical weapons, these days she prefers handguns and knives, constantly carrying one of each with her everywhere. In regards to physical combat, she can pack a punch and knows how to dodge or kick without falling on her rear or making a fool of herself, but she isn't a martial artist and instead of getting into full on fist fights she usually uses her speed to her advantage, but will always try to make her attack a surprise if she intends on fighting.​

⊱ Bush Survival Skills || "Trees and bugs, what a paradise."

She has taught herself how to make a natural shelter and can throw together a fire. She is also able to hunt it a way, using information on snares using twine or wire and illustrated pictures in old boy scouts books.​

⊱ Exceptionally Basic Medical Knowledge ||"If I like you, I'll help as much as I can"

Jackie knows very little about the medical field, and most of what she knows is from what she has either heard or seen from the makeshift doctors they have in their group. Namely what she knows is to pour whiskey or boiling vinegar on a wound to clean it out before bandaging it, however that is the extent of her abilities. In essence, she knows enough to get a rather minor injury patched up long enough to get the injured to someone of decent medical standing.

⊱ P E R S O N A L I T Y ⊰"I am amazing, nuff said."

⊱ B A C K G R O U N D ⊰"Blah, there are so many stories that are better than mine. Waste your time there."
Jacqueline was born to the leader of a large raiding group called the ravagers, and a woman he stole for a thrall when passing through a makeshift society that was promptly pillaged and put to the torch. There was nothing between her parents, no emotional attachment aside from hate on the woman's side, she was nothing but a release for him, a warm sac of flesh that would take in every blow and let out a whimper or a sob. She would cry and plead when he wanted and it made him feel powerful when he struggled with the realities of the current world and he grew fond of her because of it. The woman became all but untouchable by everyone but him, and it remained that way right through the pregnancy. When she was in this delicate stage he became almost docile, only laying hands on her to touch her stomach. She would cringe as he grinned, claiming it was a fiery boy, because the little creature inside would kick at his touch. When the babe was born a girl he beat her bloody simply because he was disappointed, and nearly smashed the babe against the wall, but when he started toward the silent infant wrapped in tarnished old blankets the woman went out of her mind to stop him. Then, when he finally got the baby in his hands, the child laughed, and kicked at his touch. The world seemed to freeze then, and in those eternal seconds all the handmaids and men watching stopped.

Rather than killing it, he found himself grinning, setting it down and telling someone to clean up the blood and the woman. Jack's mother survived the night, and others afterward, raising the girl as best as she could until she was seven, that was when life became especially bad and the woman sought to leave with her girl... It didn't end well, and Jack can recall her blonde hair is matted with blood in her memory, and her delicate skin bruised and cut, her details all but gone beneath her bloated features. She can remember how she felt, she can bring back her fathers coarse angry voice, and the spittle that hit her as he yelled, their faces inches apart, "This is what happens, Jack. This is what happens to those who cross me, to those who are weak. She is weak"
He kicked the woman on the ground, and she coughed, slowly Jacqueline's own eyes looked down at the bloody body beneath her, her ragged breath steadily growing faint, steadily ceasing to exist. She knew what she needed to do then. The girl found her voice, but it came out a mutter under her breath, tears brimming her eyes. He didn't catch what she said, and seized a fist full of her hair, drawing her up onto her toes as he screamed, "What was that?! Are you talking back to me you little sh--"

She cut in, her eyes looking up through the thick veil of black hair that hung across her face, stern and angry, yet some how she kept her voice level, knowing shouting back would only make him angrier, "Make me strong, Father. I want to be strong. I want to be like you." The words burned in her throat, and she felt her mother stir below, her voice cut off by mouthfuls of blood. That was where it all started, the training that bordered on beatings, the sessions to toughen her up and kill the weakness he'd seen in her mother, the years went by and she was raised in a place of prestige amongst the raiders, sheltered from the worst of the world for a time before being exposed to it at full force. She was forced to watch people die in some of the most brutal ways her father could come up with, and soon enough she was the one doing the killing, butchering the unlucky survivors of raids once they were no longer needed and slowly growing numb to it. She became respected in a way, but it was fear of her father that kept heads bowed as she passed by and it was the fear of her father that drove her away to try to piece together a life for herself. She knew their understanding wouldn't last forever, and it was only a matter of time before she disappointed her father, only a matter of time before his trophy daughter and little pet became a mark of shame. She became a kind of mercenary for hire, a body guard and escort of sorts.

⊱ E X T R A ⊰​

⊱ The Hounds || Phobos & Deimos​

"Oh, I see you've met my little darlings"
Named after an old greek legend her mother told her, one of many before she passed on. She found them behind a dumpster, dying beside already dead siblings and raised them since then. When she brought them back to camp the men tried to drown them, called it a 'mercy', she scratched and kicked, slamming her fifteen year old self into the scarred bastard who taunted her. Eventually they were all brought before her father, and after a thorough beating she was allowed to keep them so long as she fed and cared for them. He had expected them to die, however they never did, much to her fathers disapproval -- as he often demonstrated by kicking the mutts whenever they drew near enough--. That is until she sicked them on a pair of hovel dwellers who had stole into their raiding group and tried to make off with some of their goods, he then began to see their worth and helped to hone it.​

Weapon & Combat Adept: Dex has been trained to fight since he was 5 years old and has a lot of first hand experience.​

Diplomacy: Dex is good at diffusing hostile situations and negotiating with people.​

Strategic: Dex makes every move and resource count in any situation.​

Camouflage: Living in the Southern part of the wasteland, Dex has learned how to use the environment to his advantage.​

Scavenging: Dex is quite resourceful when searching abandoned buildings or sites for a young guy.​

Repair: Dex has a thorough knowledge on how to repair a great many things from guns to radios.​

Background:Dex was born down in the wasteland that was once known as South Carolina. He was born into a band of raiders, called The Crows, which controlled quite a bit of land and had a reputation for being quite ruthless. His mother was one of their prizes that were often forced to “service” the men. His father is believed to be one of the raiders. Since his mother was one of the more… cooperative prizes she was allowed to keep Dex alive. As soon as Dex turned five The Crows began to train him to become one of their soldiers. In time he began to see The Crows as his true family. They taught him how to shoot guns, fight bare handed, use melee weapons, and scavenge.

Dex was taken on his first raid mission when he was ten years old. The raid was on a small settlement that hadn’t paid tribute to the raiders in a couple of weeks. The plan was to capture those who looked like they could be of use and kill the rest. Dex had the job of accompanying the leader of the raiders, a middle aged man named Vekel, and protecting him with his life. During the raid things went awry and the people of the settlement attacked with firepower they shouldn’t have had. Dex ended up saving Vekel’s life twice during the raid. Once the people were captured and those deemed useless killed, Dex and The Crows headed back to the base. When they got back to the base Vekel informed Dex that he would be taken under his wing and would teach him how to be the leader of his own group of raiders.

During his time under Vekel’s guidance Dex began to view him as a father figure. Vekel treated him as if was his own legitimate son since the beginning of his new training. Vekel taught him how to strategically attack a settlement, negotiate with others, and keep his men in line. As Dex got older he began to take on more important roles for The Crows with the help of Vekel. When Dex turned sixteen years old he was given his own band of raiders and was appointed as the diplomatic ambassador for The Crows. Dex proved quite adept at coordinating attacks and keeping the peace between the various groups under the rule of The Crows.

When Dex turned 20 years old he was poised to take control of The Crows. Vekel had died not too long ago in an attack by a new religious group that was taking over the territory, leaving them without a leader. During the time without any leadership The Crows had suffered major losses of territory and members to other groups. Dex hoped he could fix The Crows under his leadership, but it all fell apart before he had the chance. The Crows were attacked by the various groups from the territories they had once controlled. By the time the attacks stopped only Dex and a handful of The Crows remained. Realizing there was not much left for them in their current area, Dex and his men decided to head towards new territory to form their own new raiding group and survive this harsh world in their own way.​

Name:
Desmond GreenAge:
41Gender:
Maleskills:Survival Instinct: He is an expert at surviving, he knows tactics and maneuvers, like finding food and finding places to stay for the night.Engineer: His past life he was an engineer, he was great at fixing cars and engines.Martial Arts: He is trained as a black belt in martial arts, he has a good punch and isn't afraid to kill another survivor.Marksmanship: He is good with a sniper rifle, he knows how to use a handgun/pistol. He knows his way with a knife or any blade.Background:
Desmond was born in a broken down Airport, His father and mother were in a small group of survivors, around twelve. There was a kid named Jones that stole medicine and food from a camp. The camp was not abandon and the gang came after them. His mother was pregnant and was going to have him right now, a medical doctor was in the group, so his father, mother and the doctor went into an other room. While the others stayed to fight.
His mother sadly died at birth, but got Desmond out and saved his life. The men downstairs of the airport got gunned down by the gang. His father and the doctor wrapped him in a blanket and got out safe. About a year later when they were travelling, they came across a small family, who was really sick. His father Eli told him that he needed to go on the road to a village. They said goodbye and they continued on the road.

His father showed him a lot of what his father was taught from his father. He showed him how to scavenge for food, show him how to hot wire a vehicle. He showed him a lot that his father showed him like fixing an engine. One day when he was ten something tragic happened. A group of raiders found them sleeping and was about to take all their stuff when his father made a sacrifice. He told his son to run and he fended off there group. His father was shot to death. He had to use what his father showed him and to fend for himself. Then when he was thirty he finally made it to Washington, where he is currently at.

skills:
Archery. Kate had always been interested in the art of archery, learning from an early age to use her longbow. Though she also uses a compound bow for hunting large creatures, and humans, she always prefers to use her precious birch longbow she calls Ebony.

Manipulation. She happens to be particularly adept at the art of the silver tongue. She often finds herself able to talk her way out of, and occasionally into, trouble. Just about everything she says sounds like the truth, but she does have subtle tells that one can watch for.

Basic Survival. She was taught how to start fires, purify water, and to lay traps for animals.

Background: Kate once lived out in the woodlands of the East coast, of which state one couldn't be sure anymore. Her uncle cared for them in their homey cabin, teaching her basic survival skills and keeping her safe from the outside world. But this all changed when she was only 12 years old. Her uncle's "security system" had gotten some holes in it, and the bandits that got in were well armed. He didn't even have the chance to defend himself. They would've killed her, too, had she not convinced them to take her along, and once she learned the lay of the land, she killed them off. She was naturally cold and calculating, born as a sociopath.

Description: She stands at a mere five feet, and is rather athletic despite her slightly rounder figure. This figure is usually covered with comfortable jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and combat boots. Sometimes she'll wear just a sleeveless top, but she prefers to be covered up. Her messy black hair is kept short, easier for her to manage. This hair makes her already pale, freckled skin even whiter, especially since she can't seem to tan despite her best efforts. Bright blue eyes look at the world with a cold and calculating gaze.

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